


Our Blood and State

by eli



Category: MI-5 aka Spooks
Genre: F/M, Gen, Yuletide, Yuletide 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eli/pseuds/eli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never mind the glories -- they're not doing this for glory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Blood and State

**Author's Note:**

> Big spoilers for the end of Series 3. Originally posted for k for Yuletide 2005, [here](http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/16/ourblood.html).

The ultimatum comes -- delivered to Adam, designed for Adam, but it's also implicitly for the others, so it's just as well that they're listening in. There is a solitary outburst, but after that it's possible to see them striving for silence: making small movements when they have to move at all and doing nothing that would obscure the sounds coming from the speaker.

Maybe Harry's listening more carefully to the timbre of Adam's voice, to the pain that can be heard most clearly in the tension of his silences. Ruth might be more intent on catching the nuances when Danny starts talking, his voice dark, then sharper, rising over Fiona's quavering sobs when they come, but still far too muted in--

They had to be expecting it; they _are_ the country's vital core of realists. Still, they jerk. A single group flinch at the single shot.

There's a second or two where they can't move but they do, mostly in continued motions of denial-- Wait, no... _there_. That. Those looks down. That's acceptance.

The only sound in the grid then is from the speaker: Adam, gasping out an apology along with his tears. It's likely safe to say that only he knows who it's meant for.

  
~~  


  
When an officer dies in the field, nine times out of ten Thames House doesn't know until well after. They're not pessimists. They're masters of rumor and sticklers for fact, and preparing for failure does not equate to expecting it.

From what history can be pieced together through the files that can be found, explosions are usually the exception; although even they can't know the location of every one of their officers at any given time, it's surprisingly difficult to hide a detonation large enough to kill.

Executions, strange as it may seem, are really very unusual.

  
~~  


  
There is a huddle in the grid. That's not a surprise; huddles are standard, even if everyone does have the clearance to come through the pods. What _is_ a surprise, is the noise coming from that huddle. The worry on Malcolm's face as he emerges onto the floor makes that as clear as if he'd said so himself.

"Sam. _Sam_. You have to--"

That's Ruth. Whatever it is she's trying to order Sam to do, Sam doesn't let her say it.

"This is-- They--" Her hands are in motion, never halting, unlike the words that stop abruptly, despite her opening and closing mouth. Maybe they're simply taken over by the keening sound that rises out of her, far higher-pitched than a wail.

From the wince, this is Ruth's breaking point. From the teeth she sinks into her lower lip, she knows the one thing that will stop this meltdown from taking over the room, then the office, and then possibly the building, which has already achieved new levels of silence. Indeed, after that moment's hesitation, Ruth draws herself up and pulls back her arm, and there's an audible _crack_ when her open hand connects with Sam's face.

Zaf ducks his head, his hand still gentle on Sam's arm. She's been reduced to sobbing.

Malcolm moves, takes a step forward, and Ruth raises her head and their eyes meet. She appears about to be overwhelmed by a scream of her own: her lips tight, her jaw clenching. But that sound never comes, either. She takes a shuddering breath and mouths "nurse."

The worried frown drawing lines on his face deepens. He nods, then turns on his heel.

  
~~  


  
Ruth doesn't speak the entire drive. She hardly acknowledges Zaf's presence in the driver's seat, and while she might be catching the looks he sends her -- three of them as they approach the estate, each briefer than the one before -- it's doubtful; she has the look on that ride of someone who's seeing sights that have nothing to do with her eyes.

People come to Harry as he cuts through the space between his car and his officers, and those people keep trying to talk to him. But he never stops moving, and moves even faster once he sees Ruth.

They've all gravitated toward the mortuary vans. A very solid blue, they're hard to miss. Harry is on her like he's guided by transmitter, and his eyes only drop to the bag on the gurney as she opens it, but then they're both transfixed. Even Zaf, several respectful steps removed, can't turn away from the body revealed, which Ruth still looks down at as though the man she knows so well is lying there simply waiting for the vans to move and the ambulance to approach.

Harry, being who and what he is, does have people to talk to, orders to issue, details to handle. Things he _has_ to do. When he's called, he pulls his eyes from Ruth's caressing hand to focus on her twisting and breaking face. Even once he screws up his will and leaves her side with a determined stride, even while he's speaking to the local forces, he turns back to see her whispering to Danny.

  
~~  


  
"I couldn't. _I_ couldn't _do_ it."

"Fi, really, no one expects you to have..."

The thing that the bugs that still need to be removed won't ever pick up is that Adam can't stop touching her. It isn't that he's holding her hand, or pulling her into his arms, he's just _touching_. It starts out a cautious move, and then he lingers, as though he's afraid that one of these times he's going to reach out his hand and it'll pass straight through the place where he sees her standing, sitting, lying. Over and over. It's the kind of touch that, if he were a cat, would turn into prolonged kneading.

"D-Danny drove him to it. I couldn't _see_ him, Adam. I couldn't _stop him_."

"I...heard."

Fiona is shuddering, or maybe it's shivering. Tremors shake through her entire frame, anyway, hard enough to shake their bed. That's probably normal, though; she has a raft of chemicals, natural and prescribed, in her system. Experts would explain, in specific terms, how it's also normal for her to begin flinching away from his touch. But then, looking up into the mask that's dropped over his face, she curls into him and reaches for him, grasping and holding and pulling him around her.

"You need to sleep."

"I can't."

"You know the debrief won't be hard. No one wants to make this harder. But Harry just can't put it off any longer than tomorrow morning and--"

"I _know_ , Adam, I...I know."

He presses his face to her neck and her hands clasp tight behind his back.

  
~~  


  
"You'll be back out there before Fiona is done. You went off on your own."

The tone of Harry's voice on that second statement says "displeased" more patently than his words. Adam's expression doesn't change from the mild inquiry that was there when he entered.

"I did. I felt--"

"You felt a number of things at the time, didn't you?"

Before Harry has completed that sharp interruption, Adam's shoulders are tense.

"You broke off communication. You aided an operative who, it turned out, had an explosive in her body, to enter a high-security event--"

Adam's voice rises above Harry's recitation of infractions. "An explosive that I prevented being triggered!"

When Harry merely raises his eyebrows, Adam's hands go flat on the table and his body language completes the shift from companionable to challenging.

"I talked her down from killing the Prime Minister and a building _full_ of civilians, _and_ I got the location of where they were holding _my wife_. Just what in that turned out poorly for you, Harry?"

Harry's eyes narrow at the question, but then his lips purse, contemplation almost relaxing his face.

"You made the switch from Six to Five quite easily. Impressively easily, in fact. Do you trust us, Adam?"

Adam's mouth opens, but that's all that happens on his side of the table.

"I've put my trust you," Harry says, his hands folding together in front of him, "which means that this Service has put its trust in you -- as far as the Service trusts anyone, of course -- and I _do_ understand that there are circumstances that will cause a man to act outside of his...normal range."

Adam cocks his head and, when there's nothing further from Harry, leans back into his chair again.

"It's not an idle question," Harry tells him.

"I trusted Ruth," Adam says, and his voice is both quiet and soft now. "With a little help from Zaf, that turned out well. And _now_ , here, I trust that you see that I was trusting you _then_ to come through no matter what, or when, or where."

They examine each other for nearly a minute. It's not quite a face-off, this look held across a divide. Then a slight quirk lifts the right corner of Harry's mouth. "It was as well thought-through as that?"

Just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifts once more.

"In the beginning?" Adam's face eases into a wry smile and he shrugs, one shoulder lifting. "Not quite then," he admits. "By the time we reached the event..."

There's something like admiration in the tilt of Harry's head, a brief gesture before he returns to the stern look he'd started with.

"You're not to do that again. Unless you have plans to become incredibly fond of a desk."

A huff of laugher from Adam. "I'll tell the world to lay off, then, shall I?"

Harry's eyebrows rise high. "Now that's something we haven't tried in a while."

  
~~  


  
The grid isn't a place that becomes crowded. Adam's isn't the only team -- if it were, the nation would be in dire straits; egos don't supply manpower or brains -- but the teams rarely cross paths.

Cosmic balance, someone once said: the weight of all those worries in one concentrated spot...better to risk spreading resources thin. That always gets a hesitant laugh from a new face.

In any case, it's impossible to sneak in through the pods, there's little chance of relying on the camouflage of environmental movement, and something in Fiona's stance through the glass makes Ruth do a double-take and rise from her chair. The precision of the approach, maybe. Ruth fumbles with her headset, and the move to get out from behind her desk is far from graceful, but she still makes it to the pods just as Fiona steps out.

"Are you back _today_? Harry didn't...?"

Fiona smiles at Ruth, and a newcomer wouldn't look twice, except maybe to admire. "No, he didn't say I had to return immediately to duty. I'm here for Adam and..." With a small laugh, she smoothes her hair behind her ear. "There's only so much time you can spend away before going into withdrawal, I guess."

"Well, it's good to see you," Ruth says, and it's said no more brightly than small talk with a near-stranger, except they're not strangers at all. It's possible that Ruth realizes this, because she also smiles. It almost comes across true.

Fiona's head turns away; she's looking around the room. Zaf can be seen in with Harry, sitting, at ease. Adam is nowhere in sight.

Ruth's smile drops, and a slight frown starts as she says, "I was going to have Adam tell you, but now that you're here..."

A polite but distracted, "Yes?"

"The memorial service. For--"

Fiona hardly moves, but Ruth stops. She faces the utter blankness of Fiona's expression long enough for a call to ring twice on a faraway desk before, with a determined set to her mouth, she starts again.

"Danny's memorial, it's Thursday. Day after tomorrow. His mother requested."

The silence that has fallen on their part of the floor is not a comfortable one.

"Fiona!"

Harry is standing in his doorway with his hands outstretched in welcome.

Ruth can't have missed the relief that passes over Fiona's face.

  
~~  


  
Zaf doesn't have a proper desk and it showed at the start. He's been patient, or at least he hasn't been nagging for someone to tell him where he's to head for his next assignment. That he has no place to call his own in the meantime, however, was obvious from his Goldilocks treatment of the grid: pecking at one keyboard, bouncing slightly in several chairs, before circling back round this morning to the desk across from Sam's still-vacant seat. There, he's comfortable enough to lean back, tilting the chair as far as its springs will allow.

He straightens when Ruth returns to her desk after lunch, hanging her coat behind her and glancing toward Harry's office before settling down to face her computer. They exchange a smile that's charming on his side, yet distinctly more subdued than he's capable of producing, and tired and distracted on hers. She looks away just as his mouth opens, and his smile fades into a grimace that could be frustrated; it's certainly not angry.

When Adam emerges from the back rooms, Colin following close behind and going on about something that requires intricate hand-gestures, Zaf pushes out from the desk and starts to rise. But there on the far side of the grid, they meet up with Harry and head straight away into the conference room. Zaf sinks back into a slouch in his chair and starts rolling a pen across the surface of the desk, pushing it to and fro with only a forefinger.

Hours later, chin propped on one palm, Zaf is peering intently at a background profile on a young woman -- who should have taken an extra moment before the photo to check a mirror and her collar -- when Adam stops only steps from the pods. There's a moment's hesitation before he deliberately turns back and moves over to lay a casual hand on Zaf's monitor.

"Was there something?"

Zaf's lips tighten as he sits back, examining the friendly inquiry on Adam's face before he nods; a contained movement, apparently affirming a decision, not confirming the question.

"Yeah. I was wondering, the memorial..."

Adam removes his hand, placing it in his pocket instead, but his expression remains bland. "You don't have to go. It's not expected."

Zaf is the one who frowns, his chin going up and his voice taking on an edge. "I want to. And I wanted to know if that would be looked on as an intrusion."

"Of course not." Adam's eyebrows are high. But then he casts a glance around before pinning Zaf with a narrow-eyed look. "No one's said otherwise, have they?"

A shrug is the response. When Adam's mouth twists, Zaf speaks quickly.

"It's just a sense," he says, his tone stiffer than the gesture had been. "I haven't been kicked, or even nudged or told I don't belong or anything, but people are..." he pauses to consider before offering the word, "...unnerved."

At that, a soft sigh escapes Adam and his head drops forward slightly.

"More than I'd expect," Zaf adds, and the last word is emphasized with a hard and final consonant.

The smile tugging at Adam's lips is a wry one, and he raises a hand to rub at it as he sits on the edge of the desk facing Zaf's. "I think we're all a little further off our stride than we expected," he says to the floor. Then he looks at Zaf straight on. "That no reason for you to think you're unwanted, though. We were together in this, you were a key part of this, and will continue to be."

The personnel file still on his screen didn't get the attention that Zaf gives Adam now. He leans forward with both elbows on the desk, another frown in his eyes. "You're not shipping me back?"

Adam's eyebrows rise again. "Would you rather we did?"

"No!" Zaf is shaking his head, and he continues to shake it as he says it again, "No."

"We brought you in for a reason," Adam tells him. "That reason hasn't gone away. And," he smiles, a glimmer of mischief that hasn't been seen for days, "Harry quite liked the quick thinking behind that sweets survey."

"Really?" Zaf asks with a cocky grin of his own starting.

"He liked the success of it even more, I think, but yeah, you won a convert with that."

"'Convert'?" Affront takes over from cockiness. "He didn't like me before?" Zaf demands.

"With Harry, it's never entirely a matter of _liking_ ," Adam says, and his smile is definitely meant to be teasing now.

For someone standing close enough to look into his eyes, Zaf's disgruntled scowl is only partly for show.

As Adam pushes off from the desk to stand again, though, Zaf sobers and asks, "Eleven?"

His own amusement disappearing without a ripple, Adam shakes his head. "Half past. There won't be that many people there."

Zaf looks like he has something to say in response to that, but he apparently decides against it. He acknowledges the quiet reality of Adam's statement with only a short nod and breaks eye contact first, refocusing on his monitor.

Adam makes it to and out of the pods without another interruption after that, but his hand rests briefly on Zaf's shoulder as he goes.

  
~~  


  
Harry and Ruth arrive together this time at the place where Danny is. Harry must have suggested it; it's his car and driver.

Words were falling over each other coming out of her mouth when she first got in: a commentary on kettles that died out despite Harry's encouraging murmurs. She's more alert, more aware of her surroundings than the last time, but it's hard to tell whether her waiting on courtesy is why Harry exits first when they reach the church. Whatever her reason for pausing, from every indication it's an ingrained act when he comes around to open her door.

He takes in the approaching family and colleagues with a sweeping look that catches momentarily on one sight. Down the road that comes to an end at the church. There are plenty of parked cars there, although it's not any busier than any other short street backed up against Bishopsgate -- and there are people out keeping track of these things, even if they're necessarily fewer in number than many of those heading into the church would probably like -- but there's one in particular that seems to have Harry's attention. There are two people inside who, as Harry can probably just make out from that distance, are what are left of his top team.

Harry glances at them again as Ruth stands. Whether or not he guesses at the unwillingness to be in the same confined space as Danny again that Fiona is currently expressing to her husband, Harry doesn't make any move to influence the exchange.

He definitely can't see how Fiona can't take her eyes off the church, although maybe it's that she can't look at Adam until she's built up the will to force herself to. And his back is turned when Adam tries to touch her once, when Adam is walking away and still turns back to see her.

While that small tragedy plays out another scene -- one late in the second act, it looked like -- in that car, Harry enters with Ruth. He stands back as she steps into the pew where Malcolm sits without so much as a glance at the one that's nearer to the door, and less than a meter further away from the photo and the coffin. Malcolm turns to her, and Harry watches them touch hands.

When Adam comes through the door, there's a greeting of a sort. Harry is waiting just inside. He looks past Adam to the street. He doesn't ask about Adam standing there alone and he doesn't say a thing as he watches Fiona pull the car away. He does give Adam a look, though, once Fiona's turned the corner, and Harry's looks always carry plenty of words.

Adam's lips tighten, but he wouldn't be where he is if he wasn't better at all of this than to let loose any more than that.

Another family friend brushes by, easily identified by the uncomplicated mourning on his face. The man has eyes only for the tight knot of people around the woman who really isn't all that old, tall and straight in her place on the right side of the nave with her black hat and black gloves.

Drawn by the man's progress toward the other people doing a poor job of filling the pews as they sit, Adam's gaze falls on the downward curve of Ruth's shoulders.

"Is she going to be--"

Shifting on his feet, Harry cuts him off. "She's strong," he states, sounding as if he's said it more than once that day.

The look Adam turns on him holds more than a hint of disappointment in Harry for once again being deliberately obtuse. "I don't doubt that."

"How is Fiona?" Harry asks, a pointed counterattack.

"Strong," Adam gives back.

Harry acknowledges that touch with a brief, pained grimace. "She'll need to be stronger."

"Not today," Adam tells him.

Just then, Ruth looks around and sees them by the door. Her expression is already grave, but a distinct frown deepens the lines between her eyes; she's no doubt noticed there are only two standing there. She blinks, and then straightens and turns forward again.

That same pained look is back on Harry's face. "Onward," he says.

Adam draws in a long deep breath, and he lets it out just as slowly as they move forward to slip into the two open spots left for them at the end.


End file.
